


Gotta Love Your Man

by wildirerose



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bloodplay, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rough Sex, Sex in a Cramped Space, Vampire Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-11
Updated: 2013-04-11
Packaged: 2017-12-08 05:26:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/757577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wildirerose/pseuds/wildirerose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Purgatory thunderstorm!sex.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gotta Love Your Man

A storm is coming up; thick dark clouds roll across the perpetually-lit Purgatory sky. Everything monstrous is going to ground, and they have a bit of shelter, here: ancient oaks and thick undergrowth twining together into a lover's bower. Benny tugs his jacket closer around his shoulders against the sudden electric chill in the air. There's barely enough room for both of their bodies under here, but the thunder is cracking loud and close and there's no time to find anywhere better. Dean sprawls on his back in the dirt, stretches up a lazy hand, reaching for him. Benny takes it, crawls under the vines on his hands and knees until he's straddling Dean.

 

They kiss without speaking, Dean pushed up on his elbows. Benny cradles his head in one hand, a tender gesture, and their tongues move slowly against each other. Dean lays back down in increments; Benny follows just as slowly, and long minutes pass before they're fully horizontal in the dust. The wind is picking up, whistling through the trees and sending dead leaves skittering across the ground. Benny plucks one from Dean's hair, breaking the kiss just long enough for Dean to suck in an unsteady breath, before sucking his bottom lip back into his mouth.

"Benny," Dean says.

His voice is a breathless whisper. It's been a long day. The oncoming storm stirred the nastiest creatures in Purgatory out of their holes revitalized with a brutal energy. They are both filthy and bleeding, although they had escaped each encounter without major injury. Dean shifts under him, arches his hips into the air. Benny smiles into his mouth and lowers his full weight onto Dean's body, grinding their cocks together through their jeans. Dean's arms slide around his hips, fingers splayed against his back.

They rut against each other, still drinking each other in with long, deep kisses. Benny could do this forever. Dean is a burning heat under him, driving away the chill of the storm. Another crack of thunder, Dean's hands gripping his hips, and the wind blowing through the vines and whipping the edges of their clothes against their bodies. Dean circles his hips up against Benny's in perfect friction, more electric even than the lightening that streaks over their heads. Benny finishes kissing him and just rests their foreheads together, sucking in each other's breath as they move together in stuttering beats.

"You - you can, if -" Dean catches his breath. "If you want."

Benny kisses him again, in affection and gratitude. Dean arches his head back, grinds his skull into the dirt, his neck a long white line of temptation. He doesn't need to bite here, but a little taste is still nice.

Benny makes a soft sound of pleasure and release as his fangs slide out. He grinds down hard, his cock heavy and aching, and nuzzles against the soft skin of Dean's neck. He can feel Dean's pulse in every nerve, his eyes close with the too-intense anticipation. He buries his whole face in Dean's neck, groaning, reining in self control alongside need. Then he breaks the skin, so carefully, two or three sharp points pressed in until the taste explodes in his mouth. He laps up the droplets of blood as soon as they come to the surface, wet licks that have Dean moaning under his tongue.

"So sweet," Benny says.

His words are murmured across Dean's skin, and Dean accepts them with a tight embrace, their bodies impossibly close. Usually, Dean would respond to Benny's gentle compliments with a sarcastic retort, but the exhaustion and the storm leaves the air charged between them. Dean simply looks at him, openness in his eyes, and Benny can't help but kiss him again. The rain begins to fall, a drum beat across the rocky soil, and fog coils into their tiny shelter.

"Want you," Dean says.

Benny laughs, low and warm, and Dean burrows further into the dirt under the steady press of his body.

"Hardly enough room, darlin,'" Benny says.

He strokes a hand through Dean's hair, sets a slow rhythm with his hips. The denim separating them is damp; sweat and pre-come and the humid air leaving his cock slick against the fabric. Dean shakes his head in protest, his hands dropping from Benny's hips and his body twisting.

"Get up a second," Dean says.

Benny is loathe to do so, but he heaves his aching body back onto his hands and knees. Dean turns under him, rolling around like a beetle that's been tipped on its back. A few false starts, Benny's back scratching against the thorns over their heads while Dean struggles to change position and tug his pants down at the same time. He finally manages to shove his jeans down around his his thighs and lay face down on the ground.

"Fuck," Dean says. "God fucking dammit."

Benny suppresses a chuckle. Dean hadn't thought this through very well, and his cock is now pressing bare against the rocky ground. He thrashes around like a caught fish, legs tangled in his jeans and cursing up a storm. Benny grabs him by the hips. He lifts until Dean can balance on his knees and elbows, heedless of the thorns scratching along his scalp.

"Easy, brother," he says.

Dean stills long enough for Benny to pull off his coat, wad it up, and shove it under his hips. He tugs off Dean's shirt and adds it to the pile for good measure, and then eases Dean back down onto the makeshift pillow. Dean groans and humps against the fabric as Benny lowers himself back down until they're pressed together from waist to shoulders. He presses a kiss to the back of Dean's neck.

"How's that feel?" Benny says.

Dean just writhes in response, shameless little jerks of his hips.

"Good. Really fucking good," he says. "Fuck, Benny."

"Is that an answer or an order?"

But of course it's both. He works a hand in between their bodies, and there really isn't enough room, but he manages to slide down the zipper of his own fly enough to free his cock. He thrusts shallowly between Dean's ass cheeks, his cock already so wet from his own slick that it slides easily. Dean moans as he strokes along the sensitive rim of his asshole, begging and pleading with abandon.

"Fuck, Benny, come on, please," Dean says.

He starts bucking with enough force to lift Benny, bouncing him up against the thorns and then grinding back down into the soft cushion of his jacket. Benny tries to get enough room in between their bodies to slide a finger into Dean, but his wrist can't bend at the right angle.

"Come on, man," Dean says. "It's all right, seriously. I can take it. Need you to. Fuck."

Benny would probably hesitate if he weren't so overwhelmed with his own need, but the delicious little noises Dean's making and the invigorating crack of thunder overhead are enough to override his inhibitions. He gets enough of a grip on the base of his cock to line it up and then shoves inside Dean's body with one spearing thrust. Dean hollers loud enough to challenge the storm, but he doesn't stop moving, pushing up until Benny is buried to the root, circling his hips and fisting the dirt as he moans with pain and pleasure both.

Benny tries to hold back, wait for Dean to adjust to the sudden stretch. But Dean's having none of it.

"Jesus Christ, Benny, don't pussy out on me now," he says.

So Benny grabs Dean's hips with one hand and braces the other against the ground. He thrusts into him with all the force he can manage, pulling out halfway and slamming back in again, not caring as his unbuttoned jeans ride low on his hips and the thorns overhead scratch against the skin of his ass until he's bleeding. All that matters is how impossibly tight Dean is under him, how hot.

Lightening strikes, dozens of feet away but close enough that he feels it like a cattle prod to his gut. It only makes him thrust harder. Dean's moaning has become one long, drawn out sound, and then Benny feels him come, feels the too-tight muscles clench against his cock. He rides through it, still thrusting as Dean collapses under him, a scratch of fangs between his shoulder blades tearing the fabric of his tee shirt and sucking at the blood that wells up. The taste of Dean fills his mouth, the heat of him runs through his cock, along his spine, to the tips of his toes. Benny murmurs incoherent praise; Dean arches up, moving his hips even though he's completely spent. Benny comes in time with the rain. It swells to its full force, pounds into the dust hard enough to scatter droplets back up against their skin.

Benny stops trying to hold himself up and just falls against Dean's back. His cock softens, slips most of the way out of Dean's body. He can feel the wetness of his own come running along the length of him as he pulls out, although the rain is coming down hard enough and drenching them so completely it's hard to tell which dampness is his own.

Some time passes before they repeat their attempt to change position. They tug their clothes back into place, slipping in mud now, and Dean manages to turn over and fling the come-soaked shirt out from under him on the third try. Benny kisses him, water running off the edge of his nose, his hair clinging to his face in wet locks. Dean strokes his face, thumb smearing dirt into mud, and the rain rinsing both away.

The thunder has stopped, now. They fall asleep with the lull of the rain shielding their hiding place behind a cleansing downpour, sharing body heat and slow breaths until the storm passes.  
  
THE END


End file.
